Blood of the father
by ShalloGraves
Summary: There was something wrong that night. And it forever changed the life of young harry potter, truly the boy who lived and died and lived again. Weasley!Bashing. Dumbledore!Bashing. HarryX Multi Partner. Creature Fic and Mpreg. Dont like dont read. I eat Flames.
1. Dying child

Word count: 2,397

Warnings( for all of series): Child Abuse, Spouse Abuse, Lycan mating, Violence, Rape, And gore. Oh and Death. MxMxMX….

Summary: There was something wrong that night. And it forever changed the life of young harry potter, truly the boy who lived and died and lived again. Weasley!Bashing. Dumbledore!Bashing. HarryX Multi Partner. Creature Fic and Mpreg. Good voldie moldie.

"Someone told me blood is thicker than water, but then so is mud. You don't see me sticking up for them."

There was a silence, something about the late night on July 31th, a feeling in the air that could raise the hairs on the back of your neck. It was the wind, or the lack of one in the night, and the moonless gaping mouth that was the sky. It could be felt in the way the children seemed to stop playing, or whining about how bedtime wasn't fair. And it was like a bad taste on your tongue; it lay heavy like medicine and never left your mouth, no matter what you did.

It was a day, just an ordinary day. Nothing to extordinary in life of petunia Dursley. She had done the shopping, having gotten only the best for her son, who was as big as a house but not in the way of his father. No the boy had become a man, or at least in the eyes of his mother. He had lost the fat, and then came the muscle which wrapped itself lovingly around his body. He had gained height as he lost weight, and began to look like his tall lanky mother. But still, nothing had bothered her that day. Her clothes were perfect, her smile simple but elegant. She talked with some of the neighbors, and even gossiped about the fact that the mail man stopped an hour at the deluicy house, and even went in. She was surer than not that the woman who lived there was having an affair. And if she was lucky, she and Helena Beatrice would see the blow out of the shameful family.

Oh, it was a normal day.

Vernon Dursley however… His day could not have been called so.

It was noon when it came to head. His coffee was stale, and cold, and then it was the copier machine had gotten jammed again, but it was a truly bad day when Philip, his boss, had told him they had lost the huge case he had been working on. They had lost the client, and it wouldn't have been that big of a deal if it had not been for the name. The client had gone with the company overseas, a 'Potts and era'.

So when the day was done, and three more bad luck occurrences had happened, he just knew, he knew it had to do with "Him".

It was the thumping of his car, the screams and cries coming from within that gave the air the foul tint, which made the night of the 31st a truly horrible night. It was the cries coming from trunk that had made the moon hide; it turned the night pitch black. Small fists were the drums of what was to come, the whimpers of the other.

"Mum, have you seen this? " Dudley Dursley shoved the daily paper under his mother's upturned nose, her eyes almost going crossed as she tried to read the fine print. Most mothers would have gently pushed the papers back, and told the teen to 'please don't shove things in their face', but not Petunia Dursley. No her child was perfect. "They found the bodies, of that man, remember a week ago. No head, yeah. Well their saying it wasn't murder. He had fallen of the barge, and had hit the blade of motor boat. Stupid arse was drunkard. "

This sort of talk was normal among the Dursley's, as their other house mate knew full well. Little Harry Potter was in the kitchen, his ear perked up as he listened to the news spewed from the others mouths. It was the most he got, and if he closed his eyes he could've pretended it was him they were conversing with. Not that he wanted it to be, as the conversations between him and his cousin got heated and would get out of hand. And then in the end he would hurt so bad that he wouldn't speak.

He rarely spoke anyway.

Dinner was on the stove as he swept, his little eyes watching the pasta. He had only burned dinner once, when he was nine and he had hurt so bad that he had never burnt it again. Plus, at the age of ten, he had gotten the hang of cooking the more complex things his aunt had demanded he make. Steak was his favorite so far, the juicy meat was a delight to cook, the smell making his sunken in stomach growl. He never dared to take a bite however, instead he tortured himself, smelling the cooking meat, more than he would ever get.

Freaks didn't get good food. They got scraps.

Or not even that.

Harry had just taken the pasta off of the fire when his uncle slammed in, the man's fat jiggling as he bounded in. His aunt rose, the embodiment of perfection as she went to say hello to her husband, a kiss on the cheek and a quick proper hug. He longed for something of the sort. A touch of affection, his eyes watering as he watched the couple converse but he knew better than to stare, his eyes falling to the ground.

With the food prepared, he hurried to his place, his safe place under the stairs as was his duty. He only came out to cook and clean, and then maybe when he was all alone. It happened often, they forgot him and left he to where he would eat just enough that it was hard to tell. Just a slice of cheese, a cube of butter, a few chips, things that were too good for him but would keep him going for weeks. Sometimes, if he was truly lucky, Dudley would find time to slip him food in the middle of the night, especially when his uncle had gone to town on him, lash marks littering his poor body.

Listening to his family eat, he tried to ignore the pain in his stomach. It hurt so much; the hunger was like a beast that had enough of the small cage he had confined it to. But it still clawed at him, and he was hot, his skin feeling as if it would peel from the raging fire. He assumed it was his spider friends fault. Just the other day, Dudley had come down the stairs with piers, his cousins friend from school, and the much skinnier boy had jumped up and down, knowing he would be covered in spiders because of it. He had gotten bit, by which he did not know, but it still hurt. But nothing as bad as the hunger pains which pierced him.

"And we lost the case, and all because of that boy." Those words made Harry freeze. He could feel the heavy foot falls of his uncle, and the smaller ones of his aunt. Climbing back, he tried to make himself small in the corner of his small room as the man reached in and took a handful of his, as some would exclaim, beautiful hair.

"What do you have to say for yourself, eh freak? Would it make you happy to lose my job? Lost six cases in the past year to your freakishness. "He shook hair, which moved as if he was a rag doll, his little face dry but scrunched up in pain. He knew better than to answer, it would only provoke his uncle but he still did.

"I'm sorry uncle."

The force of the first slap, whipped his head around, or at least would have if his hair wasn't gripped like a safety line. The next slap brought tears to his eyes, those big green eyes. And then they fell but it didn't stop the raining down of slaps and shakes. By the time his uncle dropped him, he couldn't see out of one eye and his jaw hurt. His arm was bent funny, and if he tried, he could see the bone. His uncle had hit it when he had reflexively brought it up to protect himself. He wished it was over.

But it wasn't.

He could have smelled whiskey on that breath, his uncle had been late. He had been drinking and drunk when he laid into small harry. Three sharp kicks to the boy's stomach, bile forcing its way up Harry's throat, spewing over the ground. There were more kicks to his legs, one snapping so loud it made his uncle stop for a second. But not long enough for him to run. Not it didn't stop uncle his uncle was gasping for breath and petunia sitting him down on the settee.

"Look what you have done now. He's trying to kill you." His aunt screamed and Dudley looked lost. But it didn't matter as Vernon got back up.

Harry knew he was going to die if he didn't get away. And it was why his magic, trying to protect him, lashed out; pushing his aunt and cousin to the ground and his uncle stumbled back. Seeing his wife on the ground, nursing a small cut, he went into another fit of rage. A cold calm one that had him dragging the boy to the car, ignoring his wife's calls about the neighbors. Blast the neighbors, he thought, the boy would not live to taint his son a day longer. He would shed no more blood for the little waste of space.

Pound…

Pound…

Pound…

Vernon grinned to himself, listening to the small cries of the boy in the boot. He was doing something all along, something he had wanted to do the moment he had saw the little bundle on his door. He had begged his wife to let him do it, to let him take care of their problems but it had been the neighbor, some old woman, who had seen the baby as he went to do just that. He had taken in back inside, damning his luck. If the baby was seen missing now, he could go to jail. But not anymore.

He was done. Bloody done.

It was the river bed that gave him the idea, his Dudley loved to play in the mucky water as a baby but it had become polluted with run off. Just as their family had become polluted with Harry, so it only fit that he leaves the pest with the stink.

He had to plug his nose with his huge meaty fingers as he made his way to the boot; the car parked just a few steps away from the water. Pulling the boy out, Harry's eyes widened and his pleading renewed, but this time not muffled by the sound of an engine.

"Uncle I'm sorry! I'm so sorry. Please. I'll be better, I promise. No more freaky things, please. Please!" But it fell on deaf ears as harry was brought to the ground and Vernon pressed his hands to the boys neck. Forcing his head under water, Harry tried so hard to fight; his little legs kicking as he drowned on water that burned his skin. He could taste the bad, the water was toxic. Which is why Vernon got up as harry slumped back, all the fight leaving him, and he got into his car.

And he left Harry gasping for breath, coughing up water and something that could be seen as blood.

It was the final seconds of human life that could be said to be the most important. People often saw things that scared them, or maybe it was the peace that overcame them, but it was important. But there were times when a person came back, walked along the thin line between death and life and in a miracle choose life. It didn't happen often.

The white haired man had been just making his way along, slowly but surely. It wasn't often he left his home, not without his wife or child and surely not in such a muggle infested place such as the small area. But it could be said it was fate that Vernon Dursley almost ran over Lucius Malfoy, if he hadn't then the man wouldn't have turned his head. He wouldn't have seen the last seconds of the life of the poor boy.

Malfoys didn't run, it was something he had been ingraining in his sons head for years. It was unbecoming to run in public, and for the exception of duels, it shouldn't be done. But he ran as he held onto the fastly fading harry potter. He ran into an alley way, apperating into his own home. His wife sat on the settee, with his longtime friend, Severus Snape, and his sleeping son. Normally he would have snapped at Narcrissa for letting Draco sleep on the uncomfortable couch but it didn't matter as the other two adults rushed over, scaring his son awake.

" He's been drowned, and I think beaten." Narcrissa informed him as she waved her wand over the short length. She had seen the scar on the boy's forehead, but like her husband thought nothing of it. The mark on Lucius arm meant nothing in light of an abused child. " Five broken ribs, a punctured lung, internal bleeding and…" She cried as she pulled the boy onto the table. " And he's dying."

Severus Snape had never been more thankful for his paranoid potion hording then at the moment Lucius came in with the Potter boy. Quickly, he pulled out the proper potions from his many pockets, uncorking them and dumping them down his throat. Narcrissa barely had time to coax them down the dying boys throat before the next on was in. They all watched in agony as his breaths became lighter and lighter.

"Why isn't it working Severus?!" Narcrissa almost screamed. This little boy was the same age as Draco, but he was so tiny. He looked to be three and not ten like his baby boy just over on the couch. Her mother instincts told her to make it work, and she began to pet every part of his body.

Severus Snape, Lucius Malfoy, Narcrissa Malfoy and young Draco Malfoy all watched as Harry's eyes opened. And then a small pained breath escaped his lips, and then nothing.

Harry Potter was nothing.

AN: Hay guys thanks for reading my first ever post, and first story. This story came to me out of my love for creature fics and is quite umm… Well youll find out for yourself. Now the story is pretty simple.

Qand A quickie:

Will this be Canon?

Not really, so if your looking for something that has that then please, don't waste your time. This story is Au, almost completely. Voldemort is good, Dumbledore is bad. It does have canon plots, like triwizard and Sirius Black. But other than that, all of it is pretty Au.

MxMxMx….?

Harry will have more than one partner but for right now, this is a HarryXBlaiseXDraco story. Harry has a Harem of men. (Lol to quote "rise of the Drakens which completely is my go to muse for some good laughs and smiles. (and smex!)

Have a Q? Hit me up in the replies and Ill give you a A

This story will be considered a one shot until I get enough Reviews! ( 3)


	2. The book

New warnings: Religious text bashing, along with homophobia and self abuse.

Chapter 2. The book

"There was no wind, no rain, no sun and the moon had been long since forgotten in the sky, but still, it seemed peaceful, this death of mine."

There was nothing wrong, nothing bad about death. It was peaceful, the way the aches and pains of being human drifted away until you forgot about what it meant. Love was a human emotion, and so was pain, hurt, and anger. Death took what made you human and ate it all up, it left you a shell but at the same time it completed you, made you whole. It put things into perspective, it made the world seem bright and new, drifting along the waves made by humanity. Death was peaceful; coming back from it was not.

Severus reacted first to the last breath of the boy, pushing aside the hysterical Narcissa, into the arms of a not much better Lucius. He didn't stop putting potion after potion after potion into the boy, coaxing them down and feeling for a pulse every few seconds. There wasn't even a faint beat and he began to try and resuscitate him, having shoved all the potions he could into him. But still there was nothing, no beat, no quiver of hope. Narcrissa seemed to notice this as she began to ball anew, Draco watching his mother cry for the boy he never knew.

It was when Severus had begun shoving more of the same potion into the lifeless body that Lucius' pulled the two adults away. He stepped by his son, only giving the blond boy a pat on the head, his big confused eyes watching as they left the family room, leaving the cooling body.

As a child, Draco was naturally curious, his small legs taking him to the body, climbing up to kneel on the table. He reached out, looking up and around the make sure he was alone and wouldn't get yelled at for touching something so… So beautiful. His hand felt the fragile skin, he traced the small bruises on what used to be Harry's face and he smiled when he traced the lips that where chapped and bloodied and they opened.

A small whimper escaped those lips, the same type of whimper that Draco made when he was sick. He wondered if the boy was sick, his uncle Severus said potions were only for when he was sick. And he had put so many into the now stirring boy, small huffs of pained breaths coming from those lips. Draco gasped as the boy opened his eyes; the most brilliant and beautiful pale green eyes he had ever seen being revealed. They were like emeralds but diluted, and the middle had a strange hint of a dark unknown color that both made Draco smile and his stomach curl, something inside him growling, clawing to get out.

"You're okay." He breathed, and Harry let out a whimper, which made Draco reach out, much like his mother, and pat the unruly mess of his hair. He shushed him when more whimpers escaped and moved so the boys head rested in his lap.

"My momma and papa, even Uncle Severus, they have been working on you. Are you sick? Uncle gave you a lot of potions and those are only for people who are sick. So you must be sick. "He didn't like the idea of the small boy being sick, and he didn't like the fact that Harry only whimpered even more. He wanted to hear his voice, he wanted him to speak. "I'm Draco. Draco Malfoy. But you can call me Dray, Momma does. Even though papa doesn't. "

"Harry."

"What?" Draco asked, having heard him but the tiny voice wasn't enough to satisfy the hunger for the Youngers voice.

"Harry." He said louder, and he turned pink and began to cough. Draco wanted to shush him but it was too late as his mother and father came running in with Severus.

"Draco!" His mother yelled, her mind screaming at her that her son was touching a dead body. But as the trio got closer, they halted, their eyes wide as they took in the breathing and healing boy. And it was true, Harry was healing, his arms and neck almost completely bruise and cut free, the break already healed. But the loud yell had made harry shrink into the other boy, whimpering loudly.

"Mother your frightening him. " Draco shushed his charge, his long arms going around the shaking body and he tried to calm the frightened boy down. It didn't work as he began to violently shake when the three got closer, even shaking Draco who tried to be steady. Finally, Severus came close enough to put a hand on Harry's cold skin, making the boy jump and get as far as he could from the four very strange people.

He ran, through the long hallways and past the portraits that moved and called out for him to halt. He moved until he was staggering, his knees bloody from falling onto the stairs and skinning them. He couldn't hear the calls of the weird people, but he could smell the clean air of outside, the urge to find the source pushing him. He pulled himself up the last flight of stairs, these older and up to what looked like an attic, filled with items that for some reason made him wary. He knew he wasn't supposed to be in here, by the small tugging in his stomach, like for some reason this place was barred.

Harry was about to leave this forbidden place when he heard the loud creak and yell of one of the men, calling his name with a hint of panic and desperation. He moved farther into the room, his stomach going more and more into knots as he made his way towards the back wall, curling up against it. He couldn't see the door anymore, and he sat on a dusty old pile of books as he waited for the captors to come and get him. To hurt him.

Severus called out to harry when he got to the top landing, a place the Malfoys had used for guest rooms and storage. He knew it was impossible for the young one to be in the attic, the room so heavy with dark artifacts that it had been warder to be invisible, more for the sake of young Draco. When he didn't see Harry, he made his way back down the steps, the last step creaking and making him growl. They boy had to have been hiding down stairs, scared and probably cold. He could still feel the phantom cold on his hands, from barely grazing the boy. He could admit he was frightened for the once dead child, for what had happened and for what he assumed harry was now.

There was a song that night, the night the boy from surrey turned 10. While those who had lost him through fury's hands rejoiced, those who had searched for him lamented. They forgot about age, and date as they searched their house, up and down but no one suspected the child to be in the room. No one thought to wonder if maybe he had been lured by the promise of outside and of freedom into the room which held the darkest artifact the Malfoy's owned. But they didn't truly own it, as it was given to them for protection, theirs and the man who owned them. A small black book on top of a pile that little Harry Potters bum rested on.

'Where am I?' It was the constant in Harry's mind. He knew he couldn't have been still surrey and in the back of his mind, he knew he had to have been dead. This place held so much beauty, too much beauty for such a freak to look upon. He almost felt his eyes burn at seeing the tall lavishness the blond family took in. He wondered if maybe the black haired man lived here as well, he didn't seem as if he had fit in. He looked like harry did amongst the Dursleys, there for a time but never fitting in. He could feel the phantom touch of the youngest blond boy, the one whose Quicksilver eyes made his heart race.

' Malfoy Manor.' Harry jumped when the answer came into his head. But it wasn't his voice that supplied the answer but one smoother, like honeyed milk. His stomach grumbled at the thought of the drink he had once had long ago, he had to have been just a baby. His mother's favorite drink, he liked to think and the thoughts were cut off by the deep growl that resonated in his head. He could feel something sorting through his memories, the growl deepening and growing. It made him shiver, made him want to curl up and cry as he saw memories of the night come and pass.

'Freak.' He called out in his mind as he saw an image of himself when he had knocked over a jug of apple cider and had been made to pick up every piece of the sharp glass, his uncle often coming and stepping on his hand as he picked up the pieces. He still had the scars from the incident. But what he didn't have were the answers to the deep rumble.

'No not a freak harry. A wizard. ' The suave voice supplied and he almost cried out. The word wizard was almost as witch. The teachings of the bible swarmed through his head and he wrapped his arms around his head. Suffer a witch not to live.

'No harry. Do not…' The voice grew faint before it came again. 'Harry the book you're sitting on, picking up. Hold it close. '

Harry did as he was told, as much as he was freaked out by the voice, it was soothing and he didn't want to lose the companion who had taken residence inside of him. He could feel an emotion, not his own but something else filtering through him. It made him shiver and shake, the anger of the emotions. He could feel it coming from the book, and he almost dropped when the voice spoke again.

'Never at you Harry. Never Angry at you. Your aunt, your uncle, those people have gotten my wrath. Do not drop me, we both have been so alone. 'He felt the anger dissipate and a small sad loneliness take its place. This made him hug the book to his chest as he listened to the book, its ramblings making a small smile worm its way to his lips.

"We have to find him!" Narcrissa said for the millionth time, her hair frazzled and her eyes red from crying. She still had an air of perfected madness around her and her husband stayed away from her sharp fingers as she clawed at him as he reminded her they were indeed looking. Even young Draco had been searching.

Narcrissa wasn't a normal mother, not by any means. She was beautiful, her blond and black hair perfectly fallen around her petite frame and her eyes a deep silky blue. She was half veela, from her mother's tryst with a veelan man, one who had left her for another creature. Her mother had suppressed her daughter's true nature through potions, hiding the illegitament of her child from everyone, including her own daughter. In the end it came out when Voldemort had one time threatened her child. She had killed over sixty people to get to the man, slashing him across the arm. People watched as the expected her to punish except for when the dark lord merely smiled and nodded in improvement. He had merely been baiting Narcrissa to show her true nature when he had said he would hurt the blond baby. He may have been dark but he wasn't evil like everyone claimed. He cared for the blond boy, as close to love as he could come to.

" Has anyone checked the attic?" She supplied when they once again came back empty handed. It had been hours and it was below freezing outside. If he had gotten outside, he could become sick, something her veela was screaming against. This boy was a cub, a baby. This cub was hers.

"It's warded cissa." Lucius said and as Narcrissa turned to him, he knew it was the wrong thing to say.

"Go check it you foolish stupid man!" She clawed his shoulder, not enough to wound but enough to sting.

Harry spent the next two hours listening to the man, whose name he had learned was Thomas, but he was to call him Tom. He liked the sound of Toms voice, the silky smoothness of it that lulled him to sleep more than once, only to be woken when one of the Malfoys, or Snape, came calling for him, never coming into the attic. The book was warming him up, like a fire would but it wasn't as hot as it burned him, only warming and he felt the emotions coming from the book to copy his own. Contentment.

Harry had been in the attic for about four hours when the door to it finally creaked open. He jumped slightly, his arms clamping down on the book, immediately loosening just so when Tom complained of it. Fear shook him, and the book sent off calming rays to no effect. The shivering was back, and so was the bone deep desperation to leave. He had to get out. He had to.

'They will not hurt you.' Tom slurred into Harrys ear, he could almost feel the man's breath. He could almost feel the arms around him, coaxing him to stand and reveal himself. But he stood fast and kept curled up in his almost completely hidden spot.

'How do you know?' He questioned and he let out a small gasp as he was showed images of the family, and of Snape. They seemed so happy, surely he would ruin it. He didn't belong with them, he belong in a cage, beaten. He felt the sharp pull of his ear, toms hissing.

'You're not a freak Harry! Stand and go to them, they will take care you child.' Tom demanded and Harry had no choice but to obey as he stood, looking straight into the back of Lucius and Severus looked at him from over the tall blond man's shoulders. Panic seized him as Lucius turned, a smile on his face but it fell when he saw the small black book clutched in his hands. He was going to take it!

Harry backed up, shoving the book behind him. He wouldn't give it up, it was his. Tom was his!

'Hand me to Lucius, he will give me back. Do not fret. Shush now, they won't take me away. Never harry. Never my precious boy. ' Harry shook his head, and almost cried when he felt the arms of his friend coax his out and the book into Lucius arms. He collapsed when it left his hands, sobs escaping his clenched lips as Lucius' eyes glazed over for but a second and he bent down, the book going into his coat.

"Harry, you need to come with me now. I promise the book will be returned to you, as shall tom but first, we need to see all is well. You had quite the journey up here, and it is very cold. " He picked the thin boy up with only the smallest of whimpers from him. Harry's thigh was touching the book, which calmed him as he wrapped his legs and arms around the older male.

'Do.. Not… Worry… Harry….'

It was only when the child was set upon the table he died, the older of the children looking upon him in worry, did the full extent of the night burn on them. They had a child, the boy who saved the wizarding world when in truth he did not, in their house. It was Severus who first realized what the day held, and he crouched down to the calm boy, who was inhaling the small amount of food he had been able to finish off, and smile down at him.

"Harry… Happy birthday."

AN: I hope you all liked it. It's a hundred words longer than the last and If you're lucky then the next chapter will be here by maybe three in the morning, if I'm feeling up to it. But for right now, this is the end of chapter two.

On to Q and A!

What is harry?

Well, this is going to come up in the next few chapters but for those who are greedy, harry is undead. He isn't technically alive anymore, but at the same time he is. I'm taking a new spin on this creature and if you have seen a fic with Harry as it, when you find out then, then please tell me. I love all Harry potter fan fictions.

What is Draco?

Draco is the very boring wizard. For now. In all truth, Draco is a Veela, part from his mother. Blaise is a Werewolf, but he won't get bitten on until later on.(Can anyone guess who?)

And as before, I will not be uploading the next chapter until I get six new reviews. I'm not personally doing this to get them, but mostly because I want to see if anyone is actually reading this and I love the feedback. I do personally reply to each and every one of the reviews. Now if my view rating hits 350, I will upload.


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